


wise up

by mixtapestar



Series: Comfortween 2020 [19]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Drunken Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Bites, M/M, Wisdom Teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: Quentin takes Eliot to have his wisdom teeth removed. Hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Comfortween 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948594
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	wise up

**Author's Note:**

> For Comfortween Day 19: General Hospital (medical procedures). HUGE thank you to salem_student for helping me come up with a fluffy prompt fill for this one.
> 
> Thanks again to Hoko & Rubi for your cheer & beta reading! <3

The day of Eliot's wisdom teeth removal surgery coincides with Quentin's day off, so Quentin agrees to take him. He brings one of the Fillory books to read in the waiting room, wishing Eliot luck when they call him back.

About an hour later, a nurse comes to get him, telling him that Eliot should wake up shortly. He's brought back to a room where he finds Eliot, peacefully asleep, his cheeks looking a little puffy, but still as gorgeous as ever. Quentin averts his eyes, telling himself not to be creepy.

Eliot starts to stir before long, ignoring the nurse for a moment and staring at Quentin. "You're here," Eliot says, his voice full of wonder even as he tries to speak through the gauze in his mouth.

"I am," Quentin agrees. "We'll get you home soon, okay? Maybe a milkshake on the way?" he asks, half-directing the question at the nurse.

She nods. "No straws, but a milkshake would be fine. Just make sure you wait about thirty minutes with the gauze still in, to make sure the bleeding has stopped." Quentin nods, pulling out his phone to write this down. After he tells her that he's Eliot's roommate, the nurse continues to give him instructions for Eliot's aftercare; he writes down every detail so he won't miss anything.

"I really get to live with you?" Eliot asks, studying him.

"I mean, yeah. Our rooms are across the hall from each other," Quentin says, not sure why he feels the need to clarify. "We don't like, _live together_. We've been roommates for almost a year."

"You blush so beautifully," Eliot says, his lips stretching in a smile despite the anesthetic.

"Oh god." Quentin blushes further, looking away from Eliot. The nurse saves him by handing him a prescription for Eliot's pain pills, telling him to get them filled right away so that Eliot can take one before the local anesthetic wears off.

On the drive back, Eliot falls quiet, occasionally pressing against his own cheek, but not doing anything that worries Quentin. So Quentin fills the space with his own words, telling Eliot about what he re-read during his appointment, and how he's been thinking lately about how Fillory is set up like a dream world, something that changes to suit the needs of the dreamer. But that may be because he saw Inception for the first time last week.

He glances over at Eliot to find he's got his rapt attention. "You have the most gorgeous voice," Eliot says, his eyes dancing. "I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Oh. Um, well, thank you."

"Go on, talk to me about Fillory some more," Eliot says, and with a couple stammering starts, Quentin finds his previous train of thought.

By the time they make their stops at the pharmacy and the ice cream shop, Eliot seems to be cognitively back to normal, though his level of affection is still at an all-time high. He leans on Quentin for support as they walk into their apartment and pets his head after Quentin guides him into bed. Quentin helps him with his milkshake and gives him a pain pill when he's done, telling him to take a nap.

Eliot reaches out and squeezes his hand. "I like it when you take care of me."

Quentin knows he's blushing again, but he can't help it. "Well, um, I'm happy to do it." He starts to pull his hand away, realizes he doesn't really want to, and then winds up frozen awkwardly with his hand in the air. He reaches out to smooth Eliot's hair back, acting like that was his original intent. Hopefully Eliot won't remember this later. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"Thanks, Q."

***

Quentin keeps an eye on Eliot's door off and on for the next few hours while he naps, planning to go to him at the first sign of distress. The first movement he hears is Eliot opening the door, crossing the hallway quickly and shutting himself inside the bathroom. Good, he must not be in too much pain if he didn't say anything. He tries to focus on his writing, but he's really waiting for Eliot to come back out, to ask how he's feeling.

The bathroom door opens, but Eliot remains inside. "Hey, Q?" he calls out, and Quentin is there almost before he finishes the question.

Eliot stands before the mirror, poking at his jaw. "Do you think my jawline has changed because of the surgery?"

Quentin huffs. "I see you're back to your old self."

Eliot tenses. "What?" Quentin tries to wave it off, but Eliot persists. "No, what does that mean?"

"Nothing, just. You were really nice to me earlier, is all."

"I'm always nice," Eliot says defensively, eyeing him in the mirror. "What was I doing differently?"

"Just, I dunno, complimenting me and shit. And you let me go on about Fillory for like, almost an hour."

Eliot's hand drops from his jaw, and he turns to face Quentin directly. Quentin stares at the floor and tries to imagine it swallowing him up. He wishes he hadn't said anything. "And you… liked that?"

"Jesus, El, can we not?" Quentin says, backing out of the room. It's bad enough when they have to dance around Quentin's crush on a normal day; _talking_ about it is downright torture.

Eliot grabs at his wrist and stops him. "I think we have to." Quentin flicks his eyes up to Eliot's; he looks serious. "When I first moved in here, you told me in no uncertain terms not to flirt with you."

Quentin tucks his hair behind his ear. Fine, they were talking about this, then. "Unless you meant it."

"What?"

"I didn't want you to flirt with me unless you _meant_ it."

Eliot looks pained. "That is _not_ what you said."

Quentin glares up at Eliot. His face is still swollen from the surgery and he _still_ looks gorgeous; damn him. "You were bringing home a different guy every night. We _live together_. When you turned the charm on me, I didn't want to have you one night and then go back to watching the endless parade of attractive men that came after me. Or worse, be the fall-back plan for when you didn't find anyone worth bringing home."

Eliot drops his wrist and takes a deep breath—in, out—through his nose. Quentin watches him warily. "So it was about my sexual… proclivities," Eliot says, a little bit biting.

Quentin winces, and crosses one arm over his stomach. "I mean, maybe a little, in the beginning. I'm not proud of it. I was just jealous. It was actually worse when you started bringing home _the same_ guy over and over."

Eliot looks wistful. "So you know how _I_ felt the six months you were dating Alice."

Quentin's breath catches. "You… were jealous of Alice?"

"I had just about convinced myself to ask you out for real, and then you invited her over for dinner. Introduced her as your '...friend' as you both looked at each other and giggled. Shamefully bad timing on my part. Nothing to do with her."

Quentin takes a step forward, gazing at Eliot hopefully. The bathroom suddenly feels way smaller. "Okay, so, um. I'm single now."

Eliot smiles, resting a hand on Quentin's hip. "You are."

"And I, uh, clarified the whole flirting thing."

Eliot reaches up with his other hand to trace Quentin's jaw. "You did."

Quentin doesn't have to say anything else, because Eliot leans down, closing the distance between them to brush their lips together. Quentin freezes for a second, feeling lost until he realizes _this is really happening_ and presses in closer to deepen the kiss.

Eliot pulls back suddenly, groaning and poking at his lower lip. "I can't believe this is happening now," he says, frustrated. "I can't even kiss you properly."

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Quentin says, looking repentant. He doesn't feel it, though; he feels invigorated.

"Don't be," Eliot says, brushing their lips together again lightly. "I'll just have to be patient a little longer."

Quentin ignores his words and keeps pressing kisses over his face, moving away from his mouth. When he makes his way to Eliot's neck, he presses his teeth against his skin lightly, thrilling at the way Eliot gasps. "Can I…?" Quentin mutters, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt of his skin.

Eliot lets out a shuddering breath, holding Quentin intently with a hand on either side of his waist. "You wanna mark me?"

"Yeah," Quentin breathes out. "Just a little reminder for while you're healing."

"Oh god, you're gonna kill me," Eliot says. "Yes, do it."

Eliot moans as Quentin sucks a mark into his skin, his hands squeezing at Quentin's waist. God, they are going to have _amazing_ sex together, Quentin just knows it.

" _Fuck_ , that feels good." With Eliot's huge hands gripping his body, Quentin thinks that they could probably do plenty even while Eliot heals, but no. They just renewed their lease, they should probably take it slow.

"Heal fast, okay?" Quentin says, settling back on his heels.

Eliot nods, his expression full of longing. He turns toward their reflection in the bathroom mirror. "So you really don't think my jawline's fucked up?"

Quentin laughs. "Your jawline is perfect, El."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! <3


End file.
